It's not like a young man wakes up and says, "Mommy, daddy, I'm tired of this Leia action figure. Take me to see angry strippers nowwww. I wanna I wanna I wanna," and then that moment gets penciled and dated on the doorway leading into the kitchen, a permanent-ish reminder of personal "growth."

Best I reckon it was around the time the late, great Miss Elizabeth first sashay-strutted into the public consciousness. That was 1985. I was 12.

I mention all of this to explain why, after months of curating the Tuesday Night Fights post, I chose to review "Sexy girls street fight outside the club in Texas."

This special moment occurred outside a Fat Tuesdays somewhere in a state where some folk are anglin' to secede. Presumably, it is Halloween. If it isn't Halloween and these American treasures go out dressed as such on the regular, please staunchly oppose their secession.

It is not by accident that "Slutty Schoolgirl" takes her first swing at, and slips before, "Madame Black Pleather" to the opening strains of "Gangnam Style."

You see thong exposure as legs try to mount an ultimately quixotic quest toward cleavage.

And like that, it's gone.

No sound.

But sight we still have.

If you were to ask He Who Recorded A Halloween Lady Fight At Fat Tuesday's the reason for radio silence, the response would most certainly involve technical difficulties.

I think it's more than that.

Miss Elizabeth wanted us to savor this 1:43 with no oppa distraction. They showed "The Artist" in heaven, and she was impressed. She realizes there is truth to Vincent's belief that it's the little differences that make life so peculiar; i.e. most YouTube fights have the same things in 'em, so you must focus to find what sets them apart.

Need we hear what the bouncers are screaming to break them up? Or what the dude who points at a mound of flesh is saying by way of narration? As a point of comparison, I ask you to compare the silence to the riff-raff-iness of "Drunk Girl Fight at gas station" (embedded) or "Two women fight outside a Texas bar." They're noteworthy YouTube fracases, of course, but they don't emerge from the run-of-the-mill pack like Sgsfotc does, and I believe that to be a result of glitchery.

Sure, I'd like to have heard Emerging-Bitchtits Batman and Chief Rumruns with the Wind's thoughts on said fracas (I-Team, assemble). But real-talking here, this brawl loses most of its juices when Slutty Schoolgirl's path toward tha club's innards is concealed by puts-hand-on-small-of-likely-trampstamped-back at the 0:40 mark.

What ensues is a carnival of unnecessary and I don't need no carnie to peddle something that ain't worth buying.

Had it cut off there – which a concise editor might have recommended – we'd have only missed the moment S.S. hauls at the caped Eyes Wide Shut aspirant to get another shot at MBP. Then, a spell of shoddy camerawork ensues until roughly 1:03 when you don't need sound to know that SS – who is friends with MTBSSG, obvs – drops a slew of F bombs, clearly still all ragey. On the path to YouTube-brawlin' central casting had she been mic'd.

But there is a beauty to the silence when she is contained by dude's push-up forearms and talked sense to by MTBSSG. We are free to project our own words down, and back out, her throat.

So, yes, the footage is diluted from 0:40 on. It is only bearable because the artistry of initial-brawl-to-disappearing-behind-bouncer portion is 30-for-30 material. I look at it through this Sexy Girls Street Fight lens: Imperfections become perfections to minds which consider a tasteful full-body silhouette sexier than a Top 10 Well-Lit Superman-Dat-Hoe Slideshow.

Or something like that.

Or something like this: Through the gimmickry of silence, and blended drink held to crotch at 1:13, this tête-à-tête was afforded the chance to rise to the top of a very shallow bathroom pool. Reason enough for me to weigh in for a change.

• Regarding the girl who would beat dat ass aboard a Texas bus as the camera rolled, sixth-grader Blake Chilla doesn't "remember what he called her, but I called her something." Blake's mom Tracey "was like 'what?'" when she heard footage had been posted on Facebook. Blake then heroically notes that he was "taught not to hit a girl." What, oh what, could Blake Chilla have said? (Start of violence, 0:18)

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• So, yeah, Colonel Sanders attempts to break up a "Hollywood Street Fight" after which a "Black Man Arrested." White people are seemingly arrested, too, but the raycess YouTube titler doesn't find it necessary to point THAT out. There's a considerable amount of stuff to think about after watching this one. (SoV, 0:03)

• Come to think of it, I blew a perfect opportunity this week. Blake Chilla would have been a great guest reviewer to break down Saturday night's "All Black Fight" at the Portsmouth, Va. Renaissance Hotel. RA RA RA RATCHET!!! (SoV, instantly)

• For a fleeting moment, around the 0:08 point, it seems as if these two pugilists will set aside their aggression to lock lips. It is not to be. Cigarette. Shove. Left. Left. BRAVES BRO DROPS HIM. BRAVES. BRO. DROPS. HIMMMMMMMMM! (SoV, instantly)

• From the 215: "Of Course There Was A Black Friday Fight In The Streets Of Old City" (SoV, instantly). Bonus Coverage: This fight of unknown origin takes place roughly four blocks from the Liberty Bell. (SoV, 0:31). Bonus Coverage II: "Watch Some Classy Philly Ladies Brawl On The Ground At A 5th Street Sunoco" (SoV, instantly).

• In a flurry of aggression, young bruh stakes his claim to King of the New Zealand Playground. Woe, his fist-bump solicitation goes unrequited. (SoV, 0:31)

• Mind the gap, or whatever they call subway things in Australia, if there are even subway things in Australia, which there must be since that is where this apparently happened and whatnot. (SoV, 0:05)